


Somnia

by potatomin



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, dream!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatomin/pseuds/potatomin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal once thought that he was over this.</p><p>A short character study of an insomniac Hannibal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnia

Hannibal once thought that he was over this.

As a child, he walked the secret passages of his home to clear his mind. He would experience bursts of thought in the late hours that could be described as 'everything at once', or at least everything in rapid succession. He had yet to fully tame his mind's natural aptitude for possibility. Even without his permission, it walked off to come back with plans for tomorrow and the day after. He would eventually win three or four hours of sleep, enough to sate but never quite to satisfy.

It was 4:00 now.

Hannibal sat on the side of his bed, staring at the clock curiously, as though it was acting up or whispering to him some strange secret. He had made it a project in his youth to master sleep, and in time he taught himself how to rest and wake without the dull burning sensation in his eyes. The clock ticked to 4:01. He breathed out through his nose.

His mind was alive with schemes to put himself to sleep. He could jog, or hunt, or fix himself a late night snack in an attempt to reach that sought-after feeling of _finished_ that would shut the doors in his mind for the night. Perhaps if he did all those things in that order he would find rest. He knew well the drowsiness of the indulgent eater, although if he rested on a full stomach he could not say that the dreams that followed were not his fault.

Hannibal recognized that he was bargaining with something bottomless. He would always reach for something after the next if he gave it his energy. Four AM was honest enough to tell him that he wouldn't be pursuing sleep, he would be running from it.

He slotted himself back underneath the covers, facing away from the clock. The pillow was cool against his cheek. He thought back to talking about sleep in the office he left behind. He thought back to talking with Will. Hannibal had advised exotic tea for Will's insomnia, but Will said he preferred the simplicity of whiskey, and they moved on to talk about drink preference before Hannibal poured wine for them both.

Hannibal closed his eyes and drew inwards.

 

He walked the halls of his mind palace in a robe and slippers. He didn't rush the walk to his office, allowing himself at least the enjoyment of the art that decorated the wall. He paced himself, reciting trivia of each work he passed. He was pleased with himself by the time he found the door.

For a reason he didn't quite understand, he turned the handle like a test, and was relieved when it opened to him.

"A little informal, Doctor." The image of Will spoke from his seat, amused.

Hannibal passed through the door and clicked it shut.

"We tread the hours between late and early, I believe that informal is appropriate." Hannibal had a mischievous glint in his eye as Will returned to the image Hannibal had taken in the morning of the Hobbs shooting, ruffled hair and sleepwear. The Will before him felt no surprise or need to examine the change, he knew, he expected.

"And what brings us to these hours?" Will leaned back in his chair as Hannibal took the opposing one.

"As a boy, my mind would often be too lively to let me rest. It seems that I've returned to that state."

"So you come to me for advice?" Will raised an eyebrow, "I'm no expert on untroubled sleep, Hannibal."

"I only ask for company."

"That will be the only thing you get."

Hannibal talked with the image of Will for a while. They discussed sleep, and what it was Hannibal got up to as a child when sleep escaped him. Hannibal described the secret passages of his home, small for an adult but spacious and exciting for a child. He recited the route to the library that as far as his parents had been aware he only visited once or twice a week. Will listened, commenting ever so often on how unusual it was to imagine Hannibal as a child.

In time, words drifted away and the office faded into rest. The image of Will in his white shirt was last to go, until the shadows around him thickened into pure dark. He faded away with a knowing look.

 

Hannibal passed through the heavy veil of sleep. When he dreamt, he dreamt of lying next to Will. He dreamt of a bed with white linen curling around them in a sun streaked room, light catching on Will's gray hairs and giving them a glow. He dreamt of reaching out and running the back of his fingers over Will's stubble as he smiled. He dreamt of feeling the vibration of Will's words through his hand.

_"Am I your anchor, Hannibal?"_


End file.
